


Fixation

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (hinted at), Eventual Romance, FCW Days, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Moxley In NXT, Jon Needs Things, Leakee's Last Name Is Reigns, Less Thirsty, Let Me Help You Trope, M/M, Moxlea, Oral Fixation, Promo Classes FTW, The Beginning Of The Thoroughbred Gimmick, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wants and Needs, Wrestling School That Seems More Like Actual School, ambreigns - Freeform, good things from bad, this got so long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: My birthday gift to myself and all of you! This takes place in an odd timeline where FCW is just becoming NXT, but a few folks are here that wouldn't have been around for FCW. It's a bit of a departure from my usual thirsty fare, but I hope it's still enjoyable all the same![x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	1. Wants

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains an allusion to D/s play not going according to plan and a brief, vivid description of a mental fray/breakdown. Stay safe!]

It wasn’t as if he had never dealt with something like this before.

 

Leakee bent down to tie his sneaker and when he straightened back up, he realized he was being watched. Blue eyes were focused on him, a pink tongue darting out to absently lick at already-chapped lips.

 

Leakee expected the other man to look away once he was caught staring, but on the contrary. He seemed to observe even more brazenly now that he knew Leakee was on to him. The dark-haired young man finally huffed in annoyed confusion and put in his earbuds, doing his best to dismiss the creeping sensation of being watched.

 

He was used to it to an extent, of course. He hadn’t gotten to his impressive size without drawing _some_ attention (mostly from cousins who outdid him by a good hundred pounds or so). It just always made him feel off-balance, like he was a zoo attraction. Less than human, but smarter than a few of the other animals behind bars.

 

Leakee could still feel those eyes on him as he went through his warm-ups. “Can I _help_ you, man?” He asked abruptly, more than irritated at this point.

 

He didn’t expect to be met with a shit-eating grin. “Depends. Is there a cell phone number attached to the rest of you?”

 

Leakee almost snorted with laughter, barely reining it in. “Definitely not.”

 

“Can’t blame a guy for tryin’, right? The name’s Moxley. Jon Moxley.” Jon didn’t extend a hand or anything like that, obviously not one for regular pleasantries.

 

“I’m Leakee.”

 

“Leah Key?”

 

“All one word. Le-ah-kee.” Leakee corrected. “You don’t need to know my last name.”

 

Jon’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?” He asked curiously.

 

“Mostly because I said so.” Leakee grunted. “But also because it’s not important.”

 

“Huh. Okay then. Lee-ah…Lea _kee_. Shit, the little hitch is what gets me. I’ll figure it out.” Jon promised, curling his lip with a determined look.

 

…

 

There apparently was never a man more eager to get his ass kicked than Jon Moxley. Leakee understood to a degree, but Moxley’s penchant for showing up to promo attempts with his mouth busted was a thing of odd regularity. It added a touch of sincerity, Leakee thought privately. Jon could easily come off as simply abrasive or cocky without his lip a little split, his face a little bruised.

 

It was hard to watch sometimes, when his scabs would inevitably crack during his ranting and blood trickled to blot into his stubble (Leakee never could manage to look away, though).

 

Jonathan Moxley was, frankly, a _mess_ , raised wrong, trained too hard and put away wet. The light-haired man made no bones about his life and career before this endeavor. Not that it would have mattered, a quick Google search outed him easily.

 

Leakee knew he should ignore him. Tolerate him at _best_. Definitely shouldn’t hand him a paper towel for his mouth after his promo was done. Shouldn’t smile at the way Jon _still_ was trying to say his name right, the thinner man finally resorting to tacking the hitch in wherever he pleased or calling Leakee ‘ _Leeloo_ ’.

 

Leakee wasn’t here to make friends. Leakee was here to make professional business acquaintances that would help him achieve his goals in the long run. As long as none of his ‘classmates’ dug too deeply into his background or tried to get too _chummy_ , he would be fine.

 

Jon wasn’t even really _friendly_ to him, that was the thing. No more than he was to anyone else. But he didn’t visibly _dislike_ Leakee, at least not as much as he disliked Seth. Jon would snap his teeth at Rollins _constantly_ if the two of them were in the same room. Whether it was an attempt to get into his head or into his pants was a line of reasoning Leakee didn’t devote much thought to.

 

Moxley would tap fists with Leakee whenever they had a training session together, and Leakee noticed with confusion that Jon only extended him that courtesy. Everyone else got a noncommittal grunt or blank stare, the line between character and reality thinner than most. Jon cultivated an image of haphazard disregard, always in motion, putting in a hundred and ten percent whether he was running heel or face moves.

 

“ _Get up!_ ” He would yell regardless of his role, “ _C’mon, fight me! Is that all you’ve got?_ _ **Fight me!**_ ”

 

Rollins had lost his temper and belted him _hard_ in the mouth during one such session, storming off furiously when he was told to hit the showers. Jon sat in the middle of the ring, holding his jaw gingerly.

 

Leakee wiped his feet and climbed between the ropes, his heart in his throat as he stretched out a hand to the other man. “You okay?” He asked brusquely.

 

Moxley watched him with narrowed eyes, like he was _expecting_ something. Leakee didn’t miss the way Mox’s free hand jerked up slightly when he stepped closer. “M’ fine.” Moxley replied sullenly after a minute, waving off Leakee’s help as he stood.

 

“Why do you _do_ that, man?” Leakee couldn’t help asking.

 

“I need it.” Was Jon’s short, unsatisfying answer. The light-haired man squared his shoulders and brought his fists up. “C’mon, your turn. I’m good to go.”

 

“Yeah?” Leakee moved like he was about to lunge forward and Jon retreated so quickly he fell onto his back, obviously startled. His hands came up even higher, shielding his face from blows that weren’t coming. “Good to go, huh?” Leakee couldn’t resist needling, grabbing one of Mox’s hands and prying it away from his face so he could pull him back to his feet. “Take five, get your head straight.”

 

“Fuck _you_ Leakee, you don’t-” Jon began angrily, flinching again when Leakee draped an arm around his shoulders. “What the hell are you doin’?”

 

“You’re gonna’ come with me, we’re gonna’ take a seat on the bench.” Leakee said calmly, “free up the ring.”

 

“Like _hell_ we are, get--let me go!” Jon snapped, shoving at Leakee’s side as the larger man essentially strong-armed him over to sit down on one of the benches. “What the fuck is your _problem_ , Lea, fuck’s sake, I got _work_ to do-”

 

“Don’t we all, man. Settle down.” Leakee grunted. “I need you to explain this shit to me.” Moxley froze and Leakee pressed his advantage, “You and this whole…goading thing. What’s up with it?”

 

“Look, I can’t really--you wouldn’t _get_ it.” Jon muttered sullenly. “It’s hard to feel real when you’re like me, when you’re running through fakey moves. It’s harder to do your best if you’re so used to... _man_ , Leeloo, what does it fuckin’ matter?” He asked abruptly, his fingers _in Leakee’s hair_.

 

Leakee knew Mox was just trying to distract him, to deflect him like he’d probably done a thousand times before. Didn’t stop the shudder from tripping down his spine because people _did not touch his hair_. “It matters because it’s _disruptive_ , Moxley.” Leakee did his best to sound stern. “You’re more focused on getting a reaction out of guys like Seth instead of focusing on your footwork or chops. Y’know, the _reason_ you’re practicing in the first place?”

 

“Leakee, have you ever been in a real fight?” Moxley’s fingers stilled in his hair. “I mean a _real_ , ‘you-or-the-other-guy’ style fight.”

 

“No.” Leakee responded curtly.

 

“Well _I_ have, motherfucker.” Jon removed his hand, a quick, violent jerk that made the larger man start. “Time and again. This fake shit is easier on my body, yeah, but it doesn’t exactly instill a sense of _urgency_ , y’ feel me?”

 

“That’s irrelevant.” Leakee grumbled. “Figure out another method of getting your work done, Mox. Nobody is gonna’ hire you to work in their promotion if you’re a belligerent, antagonistic _fuckwad_.”

 

“Harsh, Leelee.” Moxley chuckled. “You sayin’ my charming personality outside the ring doesn’t make up for that?”

 

“ _Fuck_ no.” Leakee found himself cracking a grin without meaning to, and he knocked his forehead into Jon’s. “Think on it. I know change doesn’t happen overnight.”

 

Mox refused to meet his eyes, pulling away after a second or two. “Yeah.”

 

…

 

Moxley showed up the next day with a black eye. He looked worse than usual and Leakee made sure to mention it, getting nothing but an irritated grunt in reply. That was the most he, hell, _everyone_ got out of Jon all day. _Noises_ , a head nod. Thumbs-up or down.

 

Leakee caught up with him after the day’s classes, the slender man propped up against the building and enjoying his solitary cigarette. “Mox?” Leakee addressed him cautiously. Jon exhaled heavily and rolled his head to look at Leakee. His eye looked _terrible_ , still swollen half-shut. “What happened?”

 

Mox cleared his throat, taking another drag off his cigarette. He paused, then offered the cigarette to Leakee, who declined as always. “I asked for it.” Moxley rasped. His voice normally walked the line between ‘almost okay’ and ‘beginning stages of laryngitis’, but today it ventured into ‘therapeutic screaming session’ levels of gritty.

 

Leakee winced. “You want a cough drop or something?”

 

“Ha ha, fuck you.” Jon replied half-heartedly, crushing his cigarette beneath his boot. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you sure, uce? The mouth is one thing, but you’ve never come in with a busted-up eye before.” Maybe this was tipping his hand a little _too_ much. It’s not as if Jon needed to know that Leakee paid attention to his mouth on the regular.

 

“What, you _worried_ Leeloo?” Moxley teased with a gravelly little chuckle. “Don’t be. I ain’t goin’ to that guy anymore. Too handsy. You wouldn’t _believe_ the amount of guys that wanna’ feel you up after they’ve kicked your ass.” He said as he shrugged, like he was talking about something totally normal.

 

Leakee abruptly realized breathing was difficult.

 

“Like, I figured I’d finally gotten the perfect gig. Guy was clean, he’d even wear _gloves_ while he busted my mouth open. Great guy. Last night he just…he went a little further than I expected.” Jon was staring at his boots, scuffing the ground over and over. “I normally don’t lose my cool.”

 

“Mox, did-”

 

“Calm down, he didn’t get my _pants_ off if that’s what you’re gonna’ ask.” Moxley scoffed. “Not for lack of tryin’, but he shoulda’ checked his knots before he decided on that shitty course of action.”

 

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” He had _absolutely_ been about to ask that. “I was going to ask if you killed the guy.” Leakee swallowed hard when Mox gave a ragged bark of laughter.

 

“You’d believe me if I said I did! That’s why I like you, Lake.” Jon grinned. “No bullshit.”

 

“I wish you’d stop turning my name into a crime scene.” Leakee commented dryly. “I’m _Lake_ now?”

 

“ _Lay-uhh-kee_. Better?”

 

“I dunno’, how do you feel about being called _Juh-awn-uh?_ ” Leakee mocked, receiving a set of knuckles grazing the side of his head in response. “Could call you _Mucks_ if you’d prefer.”

 

“I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you, Leeloo.”

 

“Yeah, reclaim those four to six words.”

 

…

 

Despite his proclamation that he would be alright, Jon only seemed to get worse as his face healed. He would scratch at his neck and bite his lower lip until it was bruised from the pressure. He picked at shaving nicks until they bled and Leakee _knew_ he wasn’t imagining the relief in Mox’s eyes when Seth swung at him again. Without provocation this time, but Rollins had never been that even-tempered.

 

Mox didn’t fight back and that just seemed to piss Seth off even more. Leakee felt guilty for allowing him to get a few extra shots in before dragging him off of Jon and sending him packing.

 

_I need this_.

 

Jon seemed almost _giddy_ , running his fingers over the torn skin of his bottom lip and grinning so hard he ended up pulling the split even wider. He rolled to his feet and all but threw himself at Rose (or Kruger or _whatever_ he was calling himself now), laughing hysterically.

 

Adam floundered under the assault, his hands flailing wildly as Mox caught him in a tight headlock and then began cranking his head to the side. The whole time Jon was laughing that crazed laugh, the noise screeching across Leakee’s senses. Something was wrong, something was _very_ wrong.

 

Leakee shouted Bo’s name and then gestured at Adam, the younger man nodding in understanding after a second or two. Leakee got back into the ring and worked on prying Jon’s arm off of Rose’s neck. “ _Moxley_.” He grunted, trying his best to keep his voice calm. “You need to let Adam go.”

 

Jon’s raw laughter petered out into snickering, tears starting to make their way down his face. “O-Okay.” He hiccupped, his grip sluggishly loosening. “Okay.”

 

“That’s it, nice and easy.” Leakee murmured, easing Rose out from beneath Jon’s arm. Dallas hauled Rose to his feet and scooted him back out of the ring, out of harm’s way.

 

Jon was sniffling at this point, struggling with Leakee when the dark-haired man held him tightly. “Lea-”

 

“Quiet.” Leakee said sternly, and he felt Jon go limp in his arms. Then a little gentler, “Quiet. I’m sure Dream is gonna’ want to talk to you. Pull yourself together, Jon.”

 

Moxley’s fingers dug into his back _hard_ , the light-haired man clinging to him. “Fuck, Leakee, _no_. I was s’posed t’ be okay.” He blubbered, burying his face in Leakee’s shirt. “I was s’posed t’ be okay…”

 

...

 

Jon emerged from the meeting with Dream subdued, a neon yellow Band-Aid slapped on his chin. Leakee had faith that Dusty, Regal or a combination of the two had managed to talk some sense into his thick skull, so he didn’t bother trying to find Mox before he left.

 

But Moxley didn’t show up the next day. Or the day after that.

 

Concern hounded Leakee until he sought out Dusty, doing his best to be respectful while he essentially demanded to know what The Dream had said to the other man. “That’s between me and him, Baby Reigns.” Dusty answered calmly over a mountain of paperwork and barbecue sauce-stained napkins. “I told Gingersnap to work on himself, and not to come back until he could promise me no more slip-ups.”

 

Leakee's fists clenched at his sides. “Mr. Rhodes, what if he doesn’t come back?”

 

“Then I guess this wasn’t the field for him.” Dusty shrugged. “Hard work and discipline. It’ll be a shame if he doesn’t come back, I know _I’ll_ be disappointed. He’s fun to watch, great on the mic. But he can’t stick around if he’s gonna’ fly off the handle.” Dream waved a hand dismissively. “Plus he’s got a real penchant for gettin’ punched in the mouth.”

 

“He said…” Leakee hesitated, unsure if this was crossing a confidentiality line. “He said he _needed_ it, because of the other stuff he’s done.”

 

“’Needed it’, huh?” Dusty leaned back in his seat and fixed Leakee with a _Look_ over his glasses. “What kind of man _needs_ to get punched?”

 

“He basically said it motivated him, because when…when he got busted open, it was real.” Leakee watched Dusty rub at his scarred forehead and wondered privately whether The Dream had said anything _else_ to Moxley.

 

Dusty sighed heavily after a minute. “You know where he lives, sweet Baby Reigns?”

 

“No sir.”

 

Dusty appeared surprised. “Well, seein’ as you’re the first person to inquire after him, I figured you two were close.”

 

“Not close enough to know his address, Mr. Rhodes.”

 

“Alright, gimme’ a minute.” The old desktop computer wheezed to life, Dream hen-pecking at the keys until he located the information he sought. Leakee just stood awkwardly in the doorway, listening to Dream mutter under his breath. Then, “Ah, bingo. You got a phone on you, Baby Reigns?”

 

Leakee ground his teeth at being called _Baby Reigns_ , nodding curtly and taking down the address Dusty read off to him.

 

“I’ll cover for you today, understand?” Dream said abruptly. “You go get Moxie. Phone call isn’t personal enough.”

 

“Moxley.” Leakee corrected out of habit.

 

“He’s _got_ Moxie, Baby Reigns. Don’t sass your elders.” The Dream scolded, pulling his glasses up so they rested on top of his head. “Look.” He continued after a moment. “I ain’t always been the sweet old grandpa figure, Baby Reigns. If I’d known the info you just shared with me, I probably would have said a few things different to that boy.”

 

“I told him he needed to figure something else out.”

 

“Well well, locker room leader.” Dream leaned back in his chair, giving Leakee an appraising look. “Jon told me _he_ started the fight with Rollins.”

 

“The most recent time? No, Tyler-- _Seth_ was just having a bad day and slugged him in the teeth. Mox didn’t even fight back.” Leakee remembered Jon’s wild-eyed expression vividly, his unhinged laughter as he wrapped his arm around Rose’s neck like a python. “After Seth hit him it was like a switch flipped, like the dam broke.”

 

“He _was_ trying to deal with it himself.” Dusty realized. “He’s been so damn twitchy, I saw him picking at his face.”

 

“He needed it.” Leakee’s heart sank. “It had been a week. Longer than that.”

 

“Go get him.” The Dream’s tone brooked no argument, not that Leakee would have argued. He was already halfway out the door.

 

…

 

Jon wasn’t home, but his roommate sure as hell was. Leakee could see why they had taken up together, he snapped and growled like a wild animal. “The hell are _you?_ The fuck do you want?” The young man asked through the gap in the door, baring his teeth.

 

“Leakee.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I’m looking for Jonathan Moxley.”

 

The guy’s face softened the barest bit. “Who sent you?”

 

“The American goddamn Dream.” Leakee answered wryly. “Is he here or not?”

 

“Mox didn’t come in last night.” The guy confessed. The door closed briefly, then reopened without the chain on. “He ain’t gone to class?”

 

“Would I be _here_ if he was at FCW?”

 

“Alright listen _cockmunch_ , don’t get rude with me.” The guy bristled. “Name’s Callihan. You an’ Mox buddies or somethin’?”

 

“Classmates.”

 

“So fuckbuddies…?”

 

“ _Class. Mates_.” Leakee snarled, inches from grabbing Callihan around the neck and shaking Jon’s location out of him. “Do you know where he is or not?”

 

“I may.” Callihan leaned casually against the doorjamb.

 

“Well?!” Leakee asked impatiently. “Where?”

 

Callihan raised a finger to point over Leakee’s shoulder _right_ as someone’s hand came down on it like a sack of bricks. Leakee whirled around, his fist already cocked back. “Wait! Wait, Jesus fuckin’ Christ Leakee, don’t kick my ass.” Jon pleaded, flinching away. His knuckles were bloodied and his face looked like he’d taken a good old-fashioned pummeling.

 

“ _Jon_.” Leakee had never been simultaneously relieved and horrified in his life. “What the hell happened?”

 

“I see you’ve met Sami.” Mox said instead of answering the question, slipping past the two men to get into his apartment.

 

Leakee stormed after him, daring Callihan with his eyes to try and do something about it. “Jon, what the _fuck?_ ”

 

“Dream told me if I couldn’t keep it together I couldn’t come back. Well _obviously_ I can’t keep it together.” Mox licked his bleeding knuckles, only harassing the broken skin further. “I could have really hurt Rose, man.”

 

“ _Jonathan_ _Moxley_ -”

 

“Oo.” Callihan breathed from the doorway, snickering, “You’re in trouble now, man.”

 

Leakee shot him another look and Sami quickly shut his mouth. “Mox, Dream wants you to come back. He didn’t _know_ , okay? Why did you lie to him about who started the fight?”

 

“Why the _hell_ would I tell him it was Rollins?” Jon asked, grimacing in pain as he put a bag of frozen french fries against his swollen cheek. “Seth’s the future, man. I’m not anything special like him. I’m not gonna’ get him in trouble.”

 

“Dream wants you to come back.” Leakee repeated.

 

“Rollins didn’t _make_ me try to pop Rose’s head off.” Jon said sullenly. “That was all me, man.”

 

“Dream says you’re great on the mic.”

 

_That_ got Mox’s attention, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut widening in disbelief. “He…really?”

 

“He said you were fun to watch.”

 

“Oh damn.” Moxley sat down in a kitchen chair that looked like it was held together with duct tape, putting his head into his hands. “Dream, fuck.”

 

“Jon, if you come talk with him-”

 

“I _want_ to. Lea, this is all I ever wanted to do with my life.” Jon interrupted him despondently. “I just…he told me to get lost until I could figure myself out.”

 

“I think he might have said something different if he knew it wasn’t your fault.” Leakee cautiously moved forward, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Come back with me, uce.”

 

“This is so fuckin’ touching I think I might puke.” Callihan huffed, making a retching noise. “Dammit Mox, just _go_.”

 

Moxley dug around in his pocket and fished out a crumpled mess of dollar bills. “I want food. You want food? Order somethin’.” He said, shoving the wad into Sami’s grasp. “There’s at least four hundred bucks. Takeout and rent.”

 

“Four-- _Christ_ , Mox.” Callihan sounded almost distraught. Almost.

 

“Hey, my face didn’t get this pretty from _losing_ , man.” Jon grunted, chuckling when Callihan flicked the side of his head. “What do you want, Lea? I know a place that makes fuckin’ _great_ egg rolls.”

 

…

 

Dream actually asked Leakee to be present during he and Moxley's meeting, something that Leakee _really_ could have done without. Jon was reduced to a stammering, shaky mess under the penetrating gaze of Dusty, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. It was almost painful to watch him essentially cower in the chair in front of Dream’s desk.

 

Plus, Leakee _really_ wasn’t a locker room leader. He sure as hell didn’t want to be, at any rate. He had to keep reminding himself that this had nothing to do with him.

 

“Leakee told me you weren’t at fault for the fight. Why didn’t you say anything, Jon?”

 

Moxley covered his battered face, mumbling through his fingers, “I been in the business a while, Mr. Rhodes. I know when someone’s being groomed, y’know?” He sighed. “I didn’t wanna’ ruin his chances. Seth’s a great athlete.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything if he’s going to lash out at folks because he’s had a bad day.” Dusty said pointedly. “I want to help _you_ though, Gingersnap. What can we do to help you?”

 

“I’ll be okay. I…I don’t…” Mox paused. “I-I guess what it comes down to is I was _so_ used to everythin’ bein’ for real that…that I really didn’t know how to do shit any other way. S’why I’m so mouthy. Piss a guy off, he loses his cool and gets less methodical, makes mistakes, you live longer. There’s no application for it in _this_ , but it’s a habit.”

 

“This is _good_ information to have, Snap.” Dream wrote something down on the notepad by his elbow. “I want you all to be the best you can be, do the best you can do, understand?”

 

“Yes sir, Mr. Dusty sir.” Jon bit his lip.

 

“Leakee, big guy, do me a favor will you?” Dream asked him, making Leakee straighten up from his spot next to the door.

 

“What do you need?”

 

“Keep an eye out.” Was all Dusty said in reply, giving the young man a wink that was so obvious it made Mox snort.

 

_An eye out for_ _ **what?**_ Leakee wondered later on while he sparred with Husky. Or Bray, or whatever he had decided his name was _this_ week. _I’m_ _ **not**_ _a locker room leader, Jesus Christ Rhodes._

 

Bo whooped and hollered excitedly from the practice ring across the way, having finally mastered a top rope move…more or less. Bray took a second to chuckle at his brother’s enthusiasm. “You ever seen a happier boy, Reigns?” Bray asked conversationally.

 

“It’s _Leakee_.” He looked around, hoping that no one else had heard Bray say that. Bray and Bo, being third generation, occasionally took liberties that made Leakee grind his teeth in annoyance.

 

Husky just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get used to the family name someday, _Lea_.”

 

“I shouldn’t have to.” Leakee retorted, his mood thoroughly soured. “Look at the opportunities you and Bo have, making your own characters as you go. Some of us aren’t so fortunate.” He tensed his arm on reflex, drawing attention to his tattooed shoulder.

 

“True enough, as always.” Husky’s eyes narrowed, and he gestured behind Leakee. “That boy, that _Moxley_ fella’. What’s he up to?”

 

Leakee looked where Bray was pointing, noting with confusion that Jon was just _standing_ in the middle of a practice ring, Rollins across from him with his hands on his hips. Leakee couldn’t hear what was being said, but Seth didn’t look too pissed off about it. He shrugged, turning back to Bray. “Maybe they’re figuring it out.”

 

“An’ maybe I’ll be World Heavyweight Champion someday.” Bray snickered.

 

“Look _Son of Schyster_ , anything is possible in this business.”

 

…

 

“Rollins ain’t so bad.” Jon said grudgingly as he savored his cigarette.

 

Leakee glanced up at him from his spot slouched on the ground. “Yeah? What changed your mind? Because before all you seemed to want was for him to bone you or punch your teeth down your throat.”

 

“Lea’k, I’m _shocked_ at your vulgarities.”

 

Leakee grinned. “The hell you are, Mox.”

 

“Alright, maybe not _shocked_ but…I mean hell, Lea, I can be wrong sometimes. First time I met Rollins I used the phone number line on him and he _flipped_.” Jon sniffled carefully, probably trying to keep his bruised nose in one piece. “I was just tryin’ to be funny. Break the ice. I ain’t good with people.”

 

“He thought you were serious?”

 

“Yeah.” Jon mumbled. “Like, he thought I was outing him in front of everyone.”

 

Leakee grunted, stretching his legs and getting to his feet. “Guess that’ll do it.”

 

“I explained it better today, I think. I hope. He showed me a picture of his dog, so I’m pretty sure we’re square. Also apologized to Rose.” Mox seesawed his hand. “We’ll see.” He gave Leakee a curious look. “Hey, why’d you come to get me?”

 

“Orders from The Dream aren’t exactly something you can ignore easily.” Leakee noticed with confusion that Mox looked a little crestfallen. _It’s true though, Dream told me to grab him_ , he reasoned with himself. Moxley had clearly been expecting a different answer. “I…I asked what he’d said to you and that got his whole process rolling.”

 

“You asked about me?” Ah, _that_ was apparently what Jon was looking for, the light-haired man perking up slightly. “Were you…like, worried about me? Kinda’?”

 

“You gave everyone a pretty good scare the other day.” Leakee hedged, for some reason unwilling to outright answer Jon’s question.

 

“Scared the shit out of me, too.” Mox admitted. “I thought I was doin’ okay. Not _great_ or nothin’, but I didn’t expect any miracles. Then he popped me in the mouth and my brain just...turned off.”

 

“It was the stimulus you’d been waiting for.”

 

“Sounds better when you say it.” Mox shrugged. “When I try to explain it I sound like a fuckin’ lunatic.” He stretched his arms over his head, yawning widely. “I’d say this has been more than enough excitement for one day. I’ll see you around, Lea.”

 

Leakee's walk home seemed shorter than usual, his mind in a thousand different places. He ended up leaning on the sun-bleached railing of his apartment’s tiny deck, staring aimlessly at the traffic on the street below. His stomach rumbled in the background, reminding him that he _had_ just been through yet another grueling day of training and that he should _probably_ eat something, seeing as how he hadn’t had anything since the impromptu brunch of egg rolls (though Jon hadn’t been fibbing, they _were_ great).

 

His apartment felt too quiet. Leakee tried his damnedest to ignore the sensation, putting in his earbuds to fill the silence. He needed to get to the laundromat at some point _urgently_ , needed to vacuum. With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to taking a half-day tomorrow. He doubted his father would be thrilled with the notion of his son showing up to practice wearing the same stained tank top three days in a row.

 

“ _You’re representing the whole family, Lea, I expect professionalism._ ”

 

Maybe he should wear his sports jacket. _That_ was clean, he wasn’t sure if he’d even taken the tags off of it. He had a dress shirt and a severely-ironed pair of khaki pants as well, not exactly ring attire but for promos…

 

It _just_ might work. Buy him some time on the laundry level, seeing as he was essentially out of clean clothes as of this morning. A pair of too-small boxer briefs was the sole resident of his underwear drawer at this point. Since Leakee wasn’t sticking around for the physical training, that would probably be fine.

 

The outfit wouldn’t work in terms of his _main_ character, per se, but Dream and Bloom were all about experimentation, dimensions. Regal was less onboard with that aspect, but then again he had the benefit of an accent that _wasn’t_ a drawl. Leakee still wasn’t sure _what_ his character even was. He had some heavy-handed tribal influences but Dusty encouraged him to expand, to broaden his repertoire.

 

“ _You don’t_ _ **need**_ _to be Wild Samoan three point oh, y’know_.” The older man had said pointedly. “ _You can be whoever you want, Baby Reigns_.”

 

_Still going to be Baby Reigns though_ , Leakee thought with an irritated snort. _You can dress me up but you can’t take me out_. He got up from the table, raking a hand through his hair and heading for his closet. Might as well make sure that everything was pressed if he was going to dress up.

 

…

 

Leakee wouldn't lie and say that he was _comfortable_. But he did at least feel like he was giving off a different vibe, so that was pretty interesting. Sasha shot him a quick “ _looking good, Lea!_ ” in the hallway, which made him grin to himself and straighten his lapels. He had opted to go sans tie, keep it casual. He still buttoned his sleeves before heading into the classroom, which took him a good five minutes because of how tiny the buttons were.

 

When he opened the door though, his heart sank. Because a _very_ familiar figure was chatting with Dusty, the two men turning at the sound of the door opening. Dream gave a wolf whistle, beckoning Leakee over. “Look at you in these duds, hot shot!” He said appreciatively, “Talk about branchin’ out, eh Big Reigns?”

 

Sika nodded, giving his son their customary handshake. “What’s the occasion, Leakee?” He asked curiously.

 

“Laundry day.” Leakee could feel the entire class staring at him as his father laughed. They were probably all wondering why Sika knew his name.

 

Dusty chuckled and patted Leakee’s shoulder, gesturing to his empty seat. “Go on and sit down, we were just about to get started.”

 

The door banged open loudly behind Leakee and he heard a breathless “ _shit_ ”.

 

“Snap, on time today! Great stuff.” Dusty praised. Leakee closed his eyes, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. If Jon so much as _tried_ to make an off-color comment or tease him, his father would _absolutely_ murder-

 

A hand grabbed his arm and tugged him to turn slightly. “ _Leakee_ , whoa! You’re always a pro but you mighta’ outdone yourself today.” Moxley said, his eyes wide in what Leakee could swear was genuine wonder. “A new character idea?”

 

“Laundry day.”

 

“I think the whole roster needs more laundry days, _wow_.”

 

Leakee narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Mox was being _strange_ , which didn’t bode well for anyone. He was _staring_ and his hand hadn’t left Leakee’s arm. Teeth worried the pink skin of his busted lip and _was it always this hot in here…?_

 

“Alright, let’s kick off. Settle into your seats. Mox, you’re up. I know your face is a little tender, so when you need a break…” Dusty trailed off when Jon shook his head quickly, stepping back from Leakee.

 

“It helps.” Mox admitted, giving Dusty and Sika an embarrassed shrug. “S’ an honor, Mr. Reigns.” Leakee felt a little queasy at the shyness in Mox’s voice.

 

“Just pretend I’m not here, alright son?” Sika urged, and Leakee saw that almost-imperceptible shift in Jon’s posture.

 

_Street dog._

 

Jon always paced as he spoke, but today he was practically _stalking_ back and forth between Dream's desk and the door. “I know that I shouldn’t be worried about anyone who thinks they’re better than me.” Jon slammed his hands down on Charlotte’s desk as he started, making her squeak out an amused giggle. Not much could unsettle Flair. “Ain’t _no one_ better than me, that’s a fact. Failure is a temporary condition for Jonathan Moxley.” He snarled, looking over Charlotte's head to stare down the rest of the class.

 

Leakee saw Mojo shift nervously in his seat out of the corner of his eye. Mox seemed to hone in on the motion, sliding off Charlotte’s desk to saunter down the rows.

 

“Nobody will outdo me.” Jon whipped around to face Leakee, a fist landing on his table. “ _Nobody_ , understand?” Blue eyes snapping even in the fluorescent lighting of the room, that nervous lick of the lips so close to his face and…

 

And Leakee wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “Respect is _earned_.” He retorted, getting up from his seat and arrogantly straightening out his jacket. Jon took a step back, a cocky smile dimpling his cheeks. “Discipline and dedication, _not_ empty posturing.” This was a far cry from his usual attempts, where Leakee would ramble about honor and fill in his silence with grand gestures. Now he smirked, brimming with an oddly heady confidence from his formal clothes, his demeanor utterly foreign.

 

_Something different_.

 

“Ain’t no man alive that I respect.” Mox spat, and Leakee believed every word. “Ain’t no man alive that can humble me, ain’t no man alive that can break me.” His smile was mirthless.

 

“No one’s ever earned your respect, sure, but I bet you’ve never earned the respect of anyone else either.” Leakee shot back with dizzying speed. “Mox’s loyalty can’t be bought or sold, we get it.” Moxley was momentarily speechless and Leakee worried he had gone too far, the other man full-on _glaring_ at him. “You’re all talk and teeth, Moxley, always have been!” Leakee continued, trying to jar a response out of him so Dusty didn’t notice him falter.

 

“I’ll show you _teeth_ , big man.” Moxley snapped his jaw shut hard enough to clack his teeth together audibly. Leakee fought back a flush. “You ever had your face broken?”

 

“If you managed to lay a hand on me in the ring, I’d be downright _impressed_.” Leakee sneered with a vitriol that was entirely unfamiliar. Moxley was regarding him warily, and well he should be. This was something _new_ , something Leakee was trying on in (admittedly) the most ham-fisted way. He had never devoted much thought to a character like this, someone who ‘ _knew_ ’ they were better due to their pedigree. Regal meets Hunter Hearst, condescending, _sarcastic_. Leakee advanced on Mox, forcing him to yield a step. “My bloodline speaks for me, not that it needs to. But it certainly saves time when it comes to weeding out people like _you_.” Leakee flicked his wrist and re-buttoned his sleeve carefully. “You’re not worth my time _or_ my respect.”

 

Mox loudly exhaled a breath through his teeth. “I know.” He said finally. Before Leakee could reply, Moxley held up his fists. “That’s why I’m gonna’ _beat_ it out of you!” He continued eagerly, his eyes lit up with what Leakee could only assume was excitement. “I'll take your respect from your cold, dead hands, and I'm gonna' love every second of it!”

 

He was taken aback at the glee in Mox's tone, almost missing his cue for the usual ending statement. “By all means,” Leakee inclined his head haughtily. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

 

The silence in the room was deafening. Moxley was still staring at him with that excited expression, as though he was seeing Leakee for the first time. Dusty finally whistled long and low. “Holy shit.”

 

“What?” Leakee asked hurriedly, already worried that he might have upset his father. Sika looked thoughtful.

 

“If I’d known you could fire back like _that_ I’d have paired you up with Gingersnap sooner!” The Dream was obviously thrilled. “That was _fun_ , wasn’t it? Damn, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife! Scrappy underdog and purebred fighter, crowds eat up that dynamic somethin' fierce. I’d swear you boys practiced beforehand, I ain't never seen you that quick Leakee!”

 

“It helps that Lea earned my respect _ages_ ago.” Moxley replied easily. Leakee knew that gaping at Jon was not a _productive_ thing to do, but he couldn't exactly stop it. “Definitely hang onto this character, man. The well-bred thing was working like a charm, I almost-”

 

“Thoroughbred.” Leakee interrupted, flushing a little.

 

“I _like_ it!” Dusty announced. “What do you think, Big Reigns?”

 

Sika's smile was small but still genuine. “We'll have to see where it goes. I thought it was...interesting to watch.” He allowed.

 

Leakee exhaled a breath he didn't remember holding.

 

…

 

“You and me, we gotta' talk.” Jon grunted, grabbing Leakee's arm and dragging him off to the side of the hallway so everyone else could get around them. “What the hell was that?” The light-haired man asked when the area was finally deserted. “ _Shit_ Lea, you trying to kill me?”

 

Leakee floundered to answer, not really sure what he was being asked. “I don't...understand.”

 

“ _You_ , Jesus Christ. You've been _practicing_ , you memorize some notes or somethin'? Also yeah, why didn't you ever tell me that your dad is _Sika?_ ” Moxley was pacing again. “You ain't never rattled off _anythin'_ like that before, you showin' off for your pops?”

 

“No, I improvised. I felt like you were issuing a challenge.”

 

“I _was_ , but damn. A _warning_ before you start getting high and mighty on me would be cool, you're gonna' give me a heart attack. You look the part, and back there you sounded the part. I...” Mox swallowed hard, as though he was debating something. “Got me a little interested, I ain't gonna' lie.”

 

“ _Interested?_ ” Leakee's voice cracked, making Jon grin. “What, because I'm a Reigns? Because I'm Sika's kid?” Leakee continued bitterly, hating himself for the way Mox's smile faded. _This_ was why he went by his first name, because people always treated him differently when they knew who his family was. He began unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up, irritated that he was letting something like this have an effect on him yet again.

 

Jon's hand covered his own on his arm. “Lea, I ain't that kinda' person.” He said quietly. “It's a surprise more than anything, y'know? And I'm not gonna' blab about it, or make it weird or whatever. Dunno' if anyone else put it together.”

 

“We look incredibly similar.” Leakee said dully. “We also share a lot of mannerisms. If no one else realized that I'm his son, I'm a little concerned.” Mox cupped his face, startling him as he tilted Leakee's chin up.

 

“Look Leeloo, the fact remains that you shredded my existence earlier. I don't give a _shit_ who you're the son of, you feel me?” Moxley knocked his forehead into Leakee's. “I wasn't lyin'. I've respected you for a _while_. You never seemed to care about me bein' a little...uh. Wired wrong. Take it from me, your family doesn't define you, alright?”

 

Leakee closed his eyes. “I wish it was that simple.”

 

“You can still own _who_ you are, without it bein' the _only_ thing you are, y'know?” Moxley's fingers were in his hair again. “I own my shit upbringing, my fighting. Everythin' that shaped me into what I am today. But I ain't gonna' slide back into bad habits. Feels like every day I'm breakin' another nasty behavior pattern, and I'm gonna' keep at it until there's none left.” He said determinedly, smiling. “I'm better than the folks that made me that way.”

 

Leakee dropped his forehead to rest on Jon's chest, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Mox hummed in confusion. “It's a lot for me to handle, sometimes.” Leakee murmured.

 

“I know.”

 

_I know_.

 

The simple response stuck in his brain long after Leakee had departed the center. He scoffed to himself as he watched one of his loads of laundry swirl back and forth, the smooth motions soothing as always. He tended to hover by his washer and dryer when he did laundry so that nobody would take it upon themselves to touch his clothes; typical laundromat etiquette that he had perfected over the years.

 

Lugging everything home was always sweaty work, but that was the price he paid for his independence. As Leakee trudged up the stairs he decided he was taking a hot shower, putting on a clean pair of boxers that _fit_ and tucking in early. This day had been _more_ than enough, thank you very much. His stomach rumbled and he sighed. _Dinner too, I guess_.

 

His phone rang while he was in the shower but Leakee paid it no mind, running over the events of the day. At least Dusty had been impressed with he and Jon, that's what was important.

 

He had done his laundry, he vacuumed the other night, responsible adult Leakee Reigns. Leakee groaned, leaning against the wall and just letting the hot water work the tension out of his shoulders. The way Mox had looked at him when they were going back and forth abruptly returned to the forefront of his mind and Leakee groaned again, stretching languidly under the spray.

 

Moxley had seemed awed, _thrilled_. Like he believed what Leakee was saying. Like he was about to get on his knees for him.

 

Leakee stopped dead, the heat rising in his face. _What?!_ But now that the image was there, it wouldn't quit. Jon unzipping his pants, lip busted, those _eyes_ looking up at him-

 

Leakee hurriedly turned off the shower and stepped out, the comparatively cold air making him hiss in discomfort. _Jesus Christ, I'm hooked_ , he realized, running a hand through his soaking wet hair. _But that's not all I want. What the hell have I gotten myself into?_ Leakee wanted to be the one Jon could go to when he needed something, wanted to be the one to make things better for him. _What the fuck, all because of how he_ _ **looked**_ _at me? Really?_ He chided himself, roughly toweling off before he checked his phone.

 

An unfamiliar number had called and left no message. Leakee's eyes narrowed, his finger hovering over the call button for a good minute before he finally pressed it. The line rang once and then there was a loud _click!_ as someone picked up. “ _Hey, is this Leeloo? Dream said this was your number but he mighta' been wrong_.”

 

Leakee barely resisted the urge to slap himself on the forehead. “Sorry, I was in the shower. I just got in from the laundromat.”

 

“ _So uh, Dream might have also given me your address. Can I...can I talk to you? In person?_ ”

 

Leakee hated everything, but he _especially_ hated one American Dream right now. “Sure. Absolutely.” The knock on his apartment door startled him more than he wanted to admit and Jon chuckled nervously. “How long have you been out there?!” Leakee sputtered.

 

“ _Like ten minutes?_ ”

 

“Well you're staying there for another five, I'm still nude.”

 

“ _Oh?_ ”

 

Leakee hung up the phone, crumpled his towel into a ball and bit down on it instead of screaming in frustration. Did everything _have_ to be so damn difficult? Of course once he _did_ throw on some clothes and open his apartment door, he was stunned momentarily. Jon was wearing a button up shirt. A _legitimate_ button up shirt, tucked into his usual ragged jeans. “Who are you and what the hell have you done with Jon Moxley?” Leakee asked, making Mox snicker.

 

“Weird, right?” Jon sauntered past him into his apartment. “Hey I figured if it worked for you, I could give it a shot.” He smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt self-consciously. “Whatcha' think?”

 

“Well, the _pants_ throw it off a little.” Leakee teased, circling around the other man to get the full view. “This shirt is too big on you. You look like a kid wearing their dad's clothes. Next size down, maybe.” He mused thoughtfully, tugging at the fabric on Jon's shoulder and watching the way the cuff fell. “It's big on your wrists too, so you should be okay.”

 

“Shucks, and here I was hopin' I'd come over and impress you with my innate fashion sense.” Mox sighed, making Leakee laugh.

 

“No impressing required, man. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?” Leakee asked curiously.

 

Moxley shoved his hands into his pockets, digging the toe of his boot against the worn rug. “Leeloo, today kinda'...it got me thinkin'.” He began, seeming almost sheepish. “I...I was wondering if...I mean I can't really re-use my line since Dream gave me your number and all. Kinda' fucked myself on that one. I was just wondering if you'd ever...I-I mean, if you'd thought about...” Moxley covered his face, obviously embarrassed. Leakee felt like he couldn't breathe. “If you'd ever thought about kickin' my ass for fun.” The light-haired man blurted out between his fingers.

 

Leakee swallowed hard, relatively certain from Jon's hesitance that he wasn't joking. “Like whoever you went to before? The guy who wore gloves?” He asked finally.

 

“Uh, kinda'? Look, I...I know it's weird. M' sorry. I don't _exactly_ want you to kick my ass. Not like how everyone else has.” Moxley inhaled deeply. “Different way.”

 

“What makes you believe I can do something like that?”

 

“I respect you for a _reason_ , Lea.” Mox grunted. “I know if you ain't right for it, if you don’t think you can do it, you'll tell me.”

 

“Jon, I don’t have a mean bone in my body, how the hell could you even-” Leakee protested but Jon was already shaking his head.

 

“This ain’t about bein’ _mean_ , Leakee. It’s about me trustin’ you. I know you ain’t mean. But you showed earlier that you could rip a guy to pieces without touchin’ him. Sometimes that’s what I need.” Moxley flushed. “Sometimes I need to be taken apart.”

 

“In what _way?_ ” Leakee didn’t mean for it to come out so sharp, briefly confused by the way Mox shivered when he spoke. “Oh. _Oh_.”

 

“I don’t like to beg.” Moxley said bluntly. “I’m awful proud for a guy that’s got nothin’. But sometimes to get my insides to _shut_ the fuck up, I gotta’ give someone else the wheel.” He straightened up. “The last guy didn’t respect my boundaries. I know that you would, because you don’t push me to begin with.”

 

“Is…” Leakee forced himself to focus, to ignore the images his brain was excitedly whipping up for him. “Is this a sexual thing? I know sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t.”

 

“I ain’t never had it be before, but I mean…” Moxley paused, rubbing the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact. “You’re different, man. I wouldn’t exactly be complainin’ if it was, y’know?”

 

“What if something goes wrong?”

 

Jon froze at that and Leakee’s heart sank. “You think I’ve had great luck so far, Lea? C’mon.” The light-haired man scoffed finally. “I’ve been way worse off than this. I ain’t compromisin’ my safety ever again when it comes to these situations.”

 

Leakee’s mouth was dry as a bone, his thoughts spastically bolting from being flattered to the terror that he would inevitably screw something up _royally_. “Jon, I would _never_ hurt you intentionally.” Mox met his eyes at that. “I don’t know if I could do…what you’re asking. I’ve never had anyone approach me for this.” Okay, that was a bit of a fib, but Jon didn’t need to know about past requests. Leakee was a larger, occasionally outright _imposing_ individual. He understood how he looked and what it would make people think. “I’m not sure that I could give you what you need, man.” He finished simply.

 

Jon’s eyes half-lidded. “Okay.” He replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “That’s fair, Lea.”

 

“I could try, though.” Leakee offered after a moment of heavy silence. “For you.”

 

“R-Really?” Those blue eyes looked suspiciously damp when Mox glanced up at Leake again. “You’d do that for me?”

 

“Yeah.” Leakee shrugged, gesturing around his kitchen. “You want something to eat?” He didn't wait for an answer, instead rummaging through his fridge in search of something edible while Jon just stood in the doorway, the thinner man seeming a little lost. “Sit down uce, I promise the chair won’t bite.”

 

“Oh! Oh, yeah.” Mox floundered, rushing to sit at the kitchen table. “Sorry, I figured this wouldn’t go so well. Now I don’t really know what to do.”

 

“How about you _relax_ , for starters?” Leakee teased, getting a weak grin in reply. “You're safe here, right?”

 

“Yeah, I...guess I am, ain't I?”

 

 


	2. Needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains animal neglect, allusions to previous abuse, vivid descriptions of 'picking' (usually referred to as dermatillomania or excoriation disorder) and brief allusions to oral fixations.]
> 
> [!DISCLAIMER!: Heyo everyone, this installment describes one way of getting into a locked vehicle. This is a work of fiction, so please do not assume any of the information is one hundred percent accurate. Stay safe!]

Jon hoped and prayed Leakee could understand him being nervous about staying over, especially since he’d had issues with it in the past. But they had been up until nearly midnight regardless, sitting at Leakee’s kitchen table talking about anything that struck them. Jon had so many questions about what growing up in Leakee’s house was like, and of _course_ Leakee wanted in-depth answers about Mox’s aggressive career paths before FCW.

 

Mox had ended up hauling his shirt off, running his finger over his ribs to highlight a few of his more _memorable_ scars. “ _Some of ‘em I uh, can’t remember how they got there._ ” He always had a harder time clearly recalling traumatic injuries. He couldn’t tell if he was seriously damaged in the head or whether his brain was trying to protect him from the gory knowledge that clarity might bring. He hid nothing. That was who he was. He had worked so hard to get to this point, not much phased him.

 

Leakee had reached to touch his side and it was…the only word that came to mind was _okay_. Leakee’s hand was larger than his own, unfamiliar fingers grazing the clumsy stitch marks. “ _I take it you didn’t go to a hospital_.”

 

“ _That kinda’ money is hard to throw around_.” Mox had felt weirdly bashful. “ _Cosmetic fixes ain’t somethin’ I ever really worried about. Prefer the superglue and staples, honestly._ ”

 

“ _Of course_.” Leakee smiled at him knowingly. “ _You want the scars to make it real. No one can deny the crap that you’ve been through if you have that kind of proof_.”

 

Mox had made up some excuse and hightailed it out of there.

 

The long walk home had given him ample time to think. Was _that_ it? He needed them to display, show off that ugly, real shit. Oh sure, professional wrestling was fake, scripted. But a script would only carry a match so far, and he bore the marks of what happened when people like him decided to think outside the squared circle.

 

Leakee _knew_. He knew. That was ironclad. He had grown up in the business, practically heir to the proverbial throne so of _course_ he knew. Hell, his family had probably invited Sheik or Sabu over for dinner.

 

Mox pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and wiggled one free, putting it in his mouth. He didn’t light it yet, just mouthed gently on the filter to ease the urge. He wondered with a stab of shame if Leakee thought he had the Disease, if Leakee was humoring him because he pitied him. If there was one thing Mox couldn’t stand, it was _pity_.

 

He stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his jacket, searching for his lighter. Was there anything he could offer Leakee in exchange for this? Their little agreement could go sour real fast if all the power was on one side. He had at least walked away with that lesson. _I could fuck him_. Mox hated himself for the thought as soon as it popped up. _Of course you could. You’re desperate, he’s handsome, you want to get your_ _ **grubby**_ _hands all over him. Have some fucking class, will you Moxley?_

 

Jon lit the cigarette and tipped his head back, inhaling the smoke. The stars were hardly visible, out there far above the streetlights. Beside them hung the barest sliver of crescent moon. “Hey,” Mox began quietly, unsure of who he was addressing. “I’d really appreciate it if this didn’t go sideways.”

 

…

 

Mox showed up to class early the next day, bleary-eyed and somewhat hoarse. He knew he must look terrible because Leakee shook his head and mouthed ‘ _yikes_ ’. Mox responded by childishly sticking out his tongue at him.

 

Leakee ended up approaching him before class, his fingers fidgeting with the laces of his sweatpants. “Sorry we talked so late last night, uce. You could have slept over, y’know.” He reminded Jon.

 

Mox yawned widely, stretching his arms over his head and then slumping forward on the table. “Nuh.” He mumbled into the smooth surface beneath him, groaning when Leakee started gently rubbing the back of his neck. “Mm, Lea…” Something about the firm, no-nonsense way that Leakee just _was_ had Jon’s stomach all twisted.

 

“You want to come over again tonight?” Leakee asked quietly after several minutes of him working on the knots in Jon’s neck and shoulders. Mox mumbled something noncommittal, too interested in the hands on him (and the complete lack of hostility he felt towards to owner of said hands).

 

He didn’t even realize he had dozed off until he heard Bloom ask, “Hey Sleeping Beauty, wanna’ join the rest of the class?” in his usual, semi-irritated tone of voice.

 

“Whuh?” Mox asked blearily, rubbing his eyes. “’Zat a trick ques’sion? Nap time should be mandatory.” Leakee settled into the chair beside him, dutifully opening his notebook to a fresh page. “Nerd.” Moxley said out of the side of his mouth, chuckling when Leakee nodded. At least now he understood why Leakee was such a killjoy in class. The last thing Mox would ever want to deal with was a disappointed Sika breathing down his neck.

 

…

 

Leakee would watch his mouth _constantly_.

 

Jon wasn’t sure if it was some _kink_ thing or if the other man was just trying to make him aware that he was picking, but the amount of times Leakee gently eased his fingers away from his chapped lips was a _little_ telling. He would act like he was teasing, playfully arm wrestling with Mox until he pinned his hand to their table and then whacking their foreheads together with a grin. Everyone else wrote it off as goofy horseplay. Probably because everybody else couldn’t see the way Leakee’s eyes darkened when he and Jon were forehead to forehead. No, _that_ Look was reserved exclusively for Moxley.

 

He couldn’t decide whether Leakee was worried or just _annoyed_ that he had to keep tabs on where Jon’s hands were. Sometimes, on the rare occasions that he was consciously aware of the need to pick, Jon would grab at the leg on Leakee’s basketball shorts to give himself something to dig his fingers into. He never _actually_ grabbed the other man, never. Wasn’t his place. Leakee mainly wore loose clothing that bagged and sagged all over his body, offering ample places for Jon to get a handful without crossing the line.

 

It was an excellent set up aside from the fact that Leakee was _apparently_ a bit ticklish. Mox found that out the hard way when he got an elbow to the face during a practice session in the ring. He had locked Leakee in a choke hold and as he moved his hand down the other man’s bicep to ‘sink in’ the hold, his footing slipped and he almost fell. His hand dragged over Leakee’s ribs, fingers digging in on reflex to steady himself.

 

Leakee _erupted_ out of his hold, flailing his body and catching Mox in the jaw with his elbow. Jon dropped like a brick, his back hitting the mat with an impact loud enough to draw attention to them.

 

Leakee stood over him, his chest heaving and face red. “ _Don’t_ tickle me.” Leakee hissed.

 

Moxley experimentally worked his jaw open a few times. “Huh.” He said finally. “Didn’t know y’ were ticklish.” Smiling hurt, but he still did it. “Good info, heh.”

 

“Jon don’t you _dare_ \--”

 

Jon lunged for Leakee, arms around his waist and fingers latched onto his sides in earnest. Leakee’s laughter was raucous, bubbling helplessly out of his chest while Moxley carried on a merciless tickling assault. They ended up flat on the mat, Leakee wriggling underneath Jon. Moxley knew in the back of his mind that if Leakee _really_ wanted to, at any point the other man could easily snap him in half.

 

“Can’t breathe-” Leakee gasped, shoving at Jon’s shoulder. “I surrender. _Fuck_.”

 

“Victory!” Jon cheered, holding his arms over his head in triumph. Leakee used his momentary distraction to flip them over and roll Jon up in a pin, easily keeping the other man’s shoulders flat on the mat. Jon grunted, bent nearly in half and loving the way Leakee’s eyes were still bright from laughter.

 

“Unconventional attack, I dig it!” Drawled the voice of Dusty Rhodes. The two men rolled to their feet, Jon moving to lean on the ropes.

 

“Heya’ Mr. Dusty, you in watchin’ us again?”

 

“Just makin’ sure you two are playing nice.” Dusty pushed the ball cap on his head a little further back. “Have to check up on my star students, after all.”

 

Mox snorted, “You charmer,” secretly pleased that he had the older man’s attention in a positive way. “I mean, me an’ Lea are thick as thieves. It’s no surprise that we’d work well together, right?” He knuckled Leakee’s shoulder. “Lea keeps me humble.”

 

“Jon keeps me on my toes.” Leakee said in a dry tone. “Never a dull moment with someone as… _creative_ as him.”

 

“Leeloo, _please_ , you’ll make me blush in front a’ Mr. Rhodes!”

 

…

 

After the day was done Leakee met Jon at the door to his apartment with a grin and a handshake, like this was a business meeting. In a way, Jon supposed it was. He _had_ been pretty cut and dry about what he needed.

 

“Have a seat. You want something to drink?”

 

“W-Water, please.” Mox mumbled.

 

Leakee got him a glass and then sat down at the table across from him. “So for tonight, I was thinking that we could start simple. I know you’re used to being tied up and humiliated. I would probably just brush your hair or offer some general attention, if you’re comfortable with it. I’ve been doing some reading on over-sensitization.”

 

Mox’s stomach felt like it was full of lead.

 

“Or, if that’s too low-level for you, not something you’re comfortable with, I will gladly accept your input. I _can_ do the humiliation, I’m just not as well-versed in it.”

 

He had to swallow a few times before he trusted his voice, barely managing a “s’fine”.

 

Leakee smiled a little gentler, less businessman and more friend. “If you're not comfortable, you _can_ tell me. No repercussions, okay?”

 

“Listen, I've never done...I've never done anythin' but the humiliation. Stuff.” Mox growled. “I thought I needed it. Needed to get busted open so it had somewhere to go.”

 

“And now?” Leakee asked carefully.

 

“Now m’ not sure. I wanna’ try the…the less aggro stuff. At least once.” Jon swallowed hard. “Please.”

 

“Whatever you’d like. You’re still using December as your safe word, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Everything stops when you say December.”

 

“Shit man, all you said you were gonna’ do was brush my hair.”

 

“Sometimes the simple things are the ones that give us the most trouble.” Leakee got to his feet. “I got a new brush for the occasion. Don’t, uh, don’t ever share brushes, okay?” He instructed seriously.

 

Jon gulped. “Yeah, gotcha’. S’ how Sami got lice.”

 

Leakee made a face, going and rummaging through a plastic bag on the table. Jon tried to slump, tried to loosen his posture up a little. This shouldn’t be a big deal, it was just his _hair_. He didn’t even have to trust Leakee for this. Wasn’t like the guy was restraining him.

 

He heard movement behind him. Mox’s fists clenched on his thighs. “Just me.” Leakee said quietly. “Try to relax. This could hurt if you’re too tense.”

 

Moxley choked back a hysterical giggle.

 

His mind went startlingly blank at the first few pulls of the brush. Leakee was apparently beginning at the bottom. Normally if a hair-brushing mood took him, Mox would rake a comb through it top to bottom. But Leakee was starting at the base. “This causes less snagging.” Leakee answered his unspoken question. “You don’t have quite as much hair as I do, but trust me on this.”

 

_Trust me. Trust me_.

 

His fingers tugged momentarily at the section he had just brushed and Mox couldn’t fight the shudder that skittered down his spine. If Leakee noticed, he didn’t mention it. He simply continued working his way up.

 

“You’ve got nice hair.” Leakee murmured. “A little dry, but when you shower every day it can be tough to maintain.”

 

The brush strokes were hypnotic in their repetition, and Leakee was nothing if not thorough. Mox found himself slipping into that warm between space, his eyes sliding shut by degrees. Normally, previously, it would take a full session for him to start winding down into an acceptable zone of comfort. Sometimes it didn’t work at all. There were worse days when his skin refused to stop jittering and screaming for more, _moremoremore_ in a ragged cadence.

 

That didn’t seem to be a problem with Leakee, though. Jon felt lazy, greedy, _safe_ in a way that was entirely foreign. It was terrifying, and...Jon hadn’t anticipated fighting an erection during their session, but here he was. He wriggled in the chair, trying to resituate his jeans to make it less obvious.

 

“Am I hurting you? I can go slower.” Leakee offered.

 

“Uh, y-yeah. Please.” Jon bit down on his lip and tried to stay still. He wasn’t being hurt, of course, he just didn’t want the session to end any sooner than it needed to. True to his word, Leakee slowed his motions to an achingly tender pace. Mox’s whole body broke out in goosebumps when Leakee carefully brushed around his left ear, one finger dragging behind the ear to make sure he hadn’t missed any curls.

 

An act as simple as this had no business being so… _intimate_. Mox’s fingers dug into his thighs, clinging tight to the frayed denim. He could feel every touch of the brush on his head, and _he’s just brushing your hair for_ _ **fuck’s**_ _sake, get a hold of yourself Mox!_

 

“How’s that feel? Everything okay?” Leakee asked, smoothing a hand down the back of Jon’s head.

 

Mox swallowed hard. “Um, y-yeah. Look, I know y’ pro’bly got more important stuff t’ do, b-but…couldja’ brush a little longer? Jus’ a little?”

 

“Of course.” Leakee answered him after taking a long moment, his fingers meditatively stroking over Mox’s scalp. “Didn’t want to aggravate your skin. As long as I’m not hurting you and you’re into it, I’ll keep going.”

 

Tonight was just a night for double entendres. Moxley was glad that Leakee couldn’t see his face from where he stood, certain that he was bright red. The larger man hummed, parting Jon’s hair in the back and brushing it off to the sides this time. Jon shivered again at the tingling sensation, his hair loudly protesting the direction it was being brushed in. It was that _warm_ kind of pain though, the kind he had only found from having someone bust his mouth open while he was helpless. To say he was confused would be an understatement.

 

_Is it the thing he’s doing? Or is it just_ _ **him?**_ Mox wondered hazily. He didn’t know what to think. “D…December.” He mumbled.

 

Leakee stopped immediately. Jon suddenly realized his heart was pounding in his chest like he’d run a marathon. He squeezed his eyes shut, not prepared for the disappointed look he was certain Leakee would give him.

 

A glass touched his mouth and Mox drank on instinct, vaguely aware that it was water. “Are you alright?” Leakee asked gently. He didn’t look disappointed at all when Mox peeked at him. Far from it actually. He looked _concerned_.

 

Mox nodded, momentarily set on lying through his teeth. “Yeah, sorry. Forgot uh, forgot for a minute. Said it by accident.”

 

Leakee had a variety of looks, Jon was beginning to realize, but only one of them could be described as a _Look_. The _Look_ was what he was aiming at Jon right now. “Jon, please don’t lie to me.”

 

Mox gulped, folding his arms across his chest like a shield to keep Leakee out. “Ain’t lyin’.”

 

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself _or_ me, Jon, c’mon.” Leakee chided him softly. “This is supposed to be good for you. The word is there for a reason. You don’t need to feel guilty about using it.”

 

“When you’re the guy that fuckin’ prides himself on takin’ the shit no one else can take, I _absolutely_ do.” Mox growled.

 

“Things don’t need to physically hurt to hurt you, Mox. It’s good to know beforehand that the person you’re with respects your boundaries, even if it seems dumb to you.” Leakee shook his head. “Even if they _didn’t_ cross a boundary, it’s not as if they would know. Only _you_ can decide when someone has crossed one of your lines, Jon. There’s no set in stone parameters; everyone is different, every _time_ is different.” He touched Mox’s chin, making him glance up. “And I _will_ stop. No matter what.”

 

“W-What if we’re…” Jon’s voice faded. “I-I mean, if we, uh, were in the middle of…something.” He struggled to get the words out, feeling like a coward. December had never been treated as a hard stop. He remembered the time where he had screamed himself hoarse with _December!_

 

“Nothing is above your comfort and consent during our time together.” Leakee said firmly. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing. It’s alright that you give the word some gravity, just never be afraid to use the power you have.” Leakee’s smile was easy, kind. “You hold the control, Jon. Are you done for tonight?”

 

“I…yeah. I am. Sorry, Lea.” Mox apologized.

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong. This is weird to you, I get it. Was it okay, though? Or should I do things you’re more familiar with?”

 

“No! No, I-I liked it. A lot. Promise. M’ just tired.” Not technically a lie, he _had_ enjoyed it and he _was_ exhausted. “From all our talkin’ and daytime stuff, y’know.”

 

Leakee nodded, studying Jon for a minute before simply offering the other man another sip of his water.

 

Jon's walk home felt like an eternity. His jeans chafed at his thighs more than usual, pulled awkwardly tight, and his palms were sweaty. Mox was certain that _everyone_ could see the internal battle raging in him, hurrying to get home before something happened that could kill his mood. 

 

He staggered through the apartment door after fighting with the lock, already half out of his jacket before the door shut behind him. Jon moved through the place like a sleepwalker, stumbling into the bathroom so he could splash some cold water on his face. His breathing was quick and ragged through his teeth, his lungs clawing the oxygen from the air like a cornered animal.

 

He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few hazy seconds, red-faced and sleepy-eyed. Arousal licked hot in his stomach, the memory of fingers in his hair making Jon’s mind conjure up the idea of himself on his knees. Leakee would grab a handful of his hair and just _use_ his mouth, it would be _incredible_ -

 

He felt almost like he was drunk as he lurched from the bathroom to his bedroom. His legs wouldn’t stop shaking, knees trembling unless he locked them.

 

Jon flopped down on his bed, groaning loudly and tearing at his zipper. The way Leakee had tended to him tonight had his skin tingling, had his cock dripping a sticky trace in his boxers that had shame flickering in the pit of his stomach. Arousal was still stronger and Mox pawed at himself through his boxers, desperately trying to get them down his legs. “ _Hn_ , fuck, _fuck_.” He gasped, struggling and finally managing to kick the offending fabric off.

 

Jon rolled onto his hands and knees, one hand supporting his weight while he slid the other over his cock. He pressed his forehead to the mattress, moaning pitifully at his own touch. He wasn’t sure if Sami was home or not. He knew he needed to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake the other man. But he was just so pent up from the night’s events he couldn’t seem to keep it down.

 

“Lea…” He breathed, biting his lip as he remembered the feeling of Leakee’s fingers carding through his hair. “Oh, _fuck_ , Lea, p-please…” He begged, sloppily licking his palm and then tugging at his cock, the heated skin already slick with precome. “Jus’ need you, need you t-t’ touch me-”

 

Oh sure, Leakee probably pitied him. Probably thought he was a filthy mess. But Jon could dream, right?

 

He jerked himself off rapidly, rutting against his blankets and shoving his face into the mattress to keep quiet. He had barely been at it for five minutes before his release was screwing his eyes shut, his whole body straining for completion. “ _Leakee_ -” Mox choked. An image of the other man, sweaty with exertion and so pretty it _hurt_ came unbidden to mind. Jon gasped, turning his head to the side and shutting his eyes again as he coaxed the picture to life. The smooth motions of Leakee’s body were _all_ too familiar. Mox felt that twinge of shame again when he focused on the idea of Leakee sinking into him, fucking him open soft and careful.

 

He came with a desperate noise, painting his abdomen and the comforter beneath him in sticky, hot come. Jon panted for breath, flopping onto his back and groaning quietly as he came back down and realized the mess he’d made for himself to clean up.

 

_You don’t deserve that, Moxley_. _You don’t deserve_ _ **him**_.

 

…

 

It was Jon’s incredibly-occasional habit to get a slush from the local Seven Eleven on his way back from his run in the mornings when he didn’t go in early to FCW. He usually consumed a fair portion of the questionable beverage while he leaned against someone else’s vehicle, letting the sweat bake on his body in the late morning sunlight. He’d make idle chitchat with tourists, pet a few dogs in the backs of pickup trucks and then meander back home.

 

Today was different, though.

 

He had picked an old station wagon to prop himself up with, slurping away enthusiastically at the straw of his drink. A woman in her mid-forties climbed out of an obviously-rented minivan and approached him pretty quickly, instantly setting Jon on edge. “Is that your car?” She asked primly.

 

“Uh.” Jon was taken aback, fumbling to respond. “No, I’m just, uh, enjoyin’ my drink.”

 

“Do you know who owns the car, then?”

 

“No ma’am, I don’t.” Mox had the nasty feeling that he was about to be escorted off the premises for loitering.

 

“I’m wondering if I should call the police.” She confessed after a moment of silence.

 

“Whoa, easy. I was jus’ leavin’.” Mox held his hands up defensively, confused when she shook her head.

 

“Not because of _you!_ There’s a dog in that car. My husband says it’s none of my business, but I’m-”

 

Jon whirled, his drink forgotten. _What the hell kind of dog doesn’t bark at a stranger leaning on the car?_ It was a brown mutt, motionless on its side in the backseat. Small, like a toy breed or a puppy. Big paws, so probably a pup. Jon rapped his knuckles on the window, worry squeezing his breath to nothing when the dog didn’t so much as look up.

 

He dug in his pocket, coming up with two wrinkled dollar bills. “Here.” He shoved them into the woman’s hand. “Go inside, get one of them big cups an’ fill it with water. Call the police too. I’m gonna’ see if I can pop the door.” He ambled over to the Seven Eleven door and kicked the doorstop out, whistling in the most conspicuous manner possible as he scooped up the wooden wedge.

 

“What are you-?”

 

“Hey, you’ve got ya’ marchin’ orders. Thought y’ wanted t’ help the mutt?” Jon grumbled, silencing her questions.

 

He knelt down and started unlacing his boot, glad for once that his sneakers had been too damp for him to use this morning. It wasn’t exactly his first time breaking into a car and while he _had_ used sneaker laces before, it was simpler with the added length of boot laces. He hammered the doorstop in between the car and door frame with the heel of his boot, awkwardly balancing on one foot as best as he could.

 

Once there was enough room, Jon stepped back into his boot and started meticulously feeding the slipknot of his shoelace down into the vehicle. This was the part that Sami had been better at, the _fishing_. It required a patience that Mox didn’t really possess. He snuck his fingers into the seam, trying to force apart the weather strip a hair more.

 

The doorstop fell into the car and the door slotted back into place, crushing Jon’s hand. “ _Fuck_.” He grunted in pain, feeling his knuckles grind in warning. _One-handed it is then, serves me right for getting greedy_. The shoelace loop swung down on the third try and neatly landed around the door lock. Jon grabbed one end of the lace in his teeth and used his free hand for the other, seesaw-ing the two ends back and forth until finally, _finally_ , he had it nice and tight on that bastard of a lock.

 

With one good yank, the button pulled up. Jon jerked the car door open, hissing at the violently purple line indented on his hand. _That’ll hurt like a bitch when the blood flow comes back_ , he thought ruefully, shaking it off in favor of checking on the dog.

 

The mutt still hadn’t moved. _Is it dead?_ Jon reached for the collar, trying to see if it had any tags, and the dog growled weakly. “Still got somethin’ in the tank, huh pup?” One icy blue eye rolled open to look at him. “That’s right, listen to my voice little fella’. You’re gonna’ be okay now. Mox’s gotcha’.” Jon soothed, daring to pet the dog gingerly on the top of its head. The puppy just huffed out a breath, obviously unimpressed.

 

“Oh, you got the door open!” The woman exclaimed from behind him. “The police said they would be a few minutes, I-”

 

“S’fine. I can at least start with the water.” Jon squinted up at her. “You can head out, y’know. M’ sure you guys have more important shit to do than this stuff. And ya’ kids are givin’ me the hairy eyeball from ya’ van.”

 

“Aaron, Alexis! Stop that right this second!” The woman scolded loudly, catching her two children in the act of sticking their tongues out at Mox. Behind her back, Mox stuck his tongue out at them and crossed his eyes. He’d had years to perfect the art.

 

“Alright Moxie, let’s see if we can get you t’ round that fuckin’ corner.” He muttered after the woman had bundled back into her van, sticking the huge cup of water underneath the dog’s nose. After there was no response, Jon dunked his fingers in the cup and dribbled the water over the dog’s gums. “C’mon, you belligerent li’l fuck, _work_ with me.”

 

The mutt whined and Jon felt horribly guilty, shushing it and continuing to bathe its gums with the water. A pale, nearly white tongue made an appearance to lap weakly at the moisture. Heartened by that, Jon dampened the sleeve of his sweatshirt and pressed it briefly to the dog’s dry nose.

 

“You’re alright. Y’ gonna’ be fine.” He murmured, “Mox’s gotcha’, it’ll be okay.”

 

…

 

“I thought if I did what I did for you, you wouldn’t need that anymore.” Jon didn’t realize the whisper was aimed at him until Leakee nudged his ribs with his elbow. Leakee’s eyes were darker than usual, brows pulled together in a deep frown.

 

Jon tilted his head, confused. “What?” He muttered. Leakee tapped the back of Jon’s bandaged hand with his pencil. _Oh._ “No no, I-” Mox stopped, grimacing. “There was a dog.” He whispered finally.

 

“A _dog?_ ” Leakee asked at a normal volume, one eyebrow now hiked up to his hairline.

 

Jon hushed him, thankful that Bloom was busy scolding Charlotte and Sasha. _Afterwards_ , he mouthed and Leakee sighed, knocking his pencil into the side of Mox’s head.

 

During the class break, Leakee jabbed his ribs again. For being such a large individual, he had surprisingly pointy elbows. “Spill it, Mox.” He said quietly.

 

“Okay so there was a dog, stuck in a car. Not stuck, left in a car. I-I mean…look, somebody abandoned a car with a dog in in.” Jon kept rephrasing himself, trying to make sure Leakee knew he wasn’t lying. “A tourist was the one who pointed it out to me. I was pryin’ open the door with a doorstop when-”

 

“A _doorstop?_ ”

 

“Dammit Leeloo, lemme’ _finish_.” Jon grumbled, daring to tug on one of the thick curls hanging over Leakee’s shoulder. “I got my knuckles busted because I’m an impatient little shit and I tried to wiggle the door open further.” He peeled back the tape and gauze, letting Leakee catch a glimpse of his bruised skin. “The _one_ time I wasn’t itchin’ t’ get broken an’ it happened anyway.”

 

“Did the dog make it?” Leakee asked, his fingers twitching and then pressing flat on the desk. Almost as if he had been about to take Mox’s hand in his own but stopped at the last second.

 

_Shut up_ , Jon chided himself. _Stop thinking like that_. “I dunno’. They were givin’ him fluids. The vet said he’d make a full recovery, but I dunno’.” Jon shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “I ain’t sayin’ I’m adoptin’ a dog. But…if nobody adopts him…” Mox trailed off, rocking back and forth in his seat. “The fees could be a problem, and uh...”

 

Leakee looked like he knew exactly where this was headed. “How much?” He asked simply.

 

“Lea, that’s not-”

 

“How much is it?”

 

“I…I don’t actually know. An’ my apartment complex doesn’t let us have pets. So it’s kinda’ pointless, ain’t it.” Mox hated thinking about it. “Fuck, Lea, I can’t handle this shit.” He confessed. “It makes me so fuckin’ sad. Poor pup didn’t do anythin’ t’ anybody, but he ain’t gonna’ get a home because he’s a dime-a-dozen. Fucks up my insides.”

 

“You don’t know that, man.” Leakee said, gently knocking his shoulder into Mox’s. “I would offer my apartment, but they’ve got the same rules. Maybe he’s been snatched up already. People like puppies.”

 

“Yeah, ain’t that the issue. People like _puppies_. They don’t like puppies that stop bein’ puppies.” Jon cursed inwardly at the way his voice cracked. “They don’t like gangly, fucked-up mutts. They like cute, cuddly puppies.” _And if there’s a few things I’m not, it’s cute and cuddly_. “He’s got big paws. He’s gonna’ get bigger. He ain’t a dog for around here.” He carried on quickly, trying to create some space between accidentally describing himself when he was trying to talk about the dog.

 

“What’s his name?”

 

Jon squinted at Leakee. “He ain’t got one, Lea. Nothin’ on-”

 

“So what do _you_ call him?” Leakee interrupted him in a long-suffering tone.

 

“I…I called him Moxie. He’s a tough sunuva.” Jon said defensively.

 

“You want to take a field trip once we’re done here?” Leakee asked.

 

“ _What_ , no, I ain’t draggin’ you across fuckin’ town t’ some-” Jon gestured wildly with his good hand. “-Some dumpy shelter, jus’ t’ make me feel better about a dog.”

 

“What about a dog?”

 

Moxley winced. Seth sounded interested, the dark-haired man plopping himself into the empty seat on the other side of Jon. “Uh, it’s nothin’ Rollins. Don’t worry about it.” Mox mumbled.

 

“Nuh-uh, you were talking about a dog. Can’t be nothing.” Seth propped his chin up in his hand, going back and forth between Leakee and Jon with an expectant expression. “Tell me?”

 

Jon’s fingers found a section of dry skin on his lower lip and he proceeded to pick at it instead of answering. Leakee caught his hand after a second, easily pinning it to the desk. Jon gritted his teeth. “I found a puppy in an abandoned car. He was all dehydrated and shit; he’s at a shelter now.”

 

“In a _car?!_ In this fucking heat?” Seth sputtered incredulously.

 

“Yeah. Kinda’ what I said. And Moxie’s a mutt, just some big-paw puppy, he’s not gonna’ be an apartment dog.” Jon shrugged, feeling stupid for being this worked up over some abandoned mutt. “Probably not gonna’ get adopted.”

 

Seth got back to his feet, his motions unnaturally stiff. With a nod to the two men, he returned to his usual seat.

 

“Fuck was all that about?” Jon whispered to Leakee as Bloom began to talk about wrestling in the fifties with the typical nostalgia of someone who hadn’t been around for it.

 

Leakee just shrugged, his expression thoughtful.

 

...

 

“Get in.”

 

Jon was halfway to squared up before he realized he wasn’t being abducted, it was just Seth. “’Scuse me? You aren’t even gonna’ offer me any candy?” He teased, leaning into the open window of Seth’s car. On the ground beside his truck in his usual spot, Leakee chuckled. Jon jerked a thumb back at him. “Look Rollins, ya’ can’t just roll up in y’ fuckin’ Honda and expect my ass t’ hop in.”

 

“Fine, I need you to get in because we’re going to that shelter.” Seth’s eyes were shielded with a pair of sunglasses, his voice more nasally than usual. If Jon didn’t know better, he would have suspected the other man of having a crying jag.

 

“Rollins are you…did I say somethin’ wrong, man? I know we got off to a real swingin’ start. Don’t wanna’ fuck things up again.” _What, since_ _ **when**_ _do I give a shit about that?_

 

Seth shook his head curtly. Moxley relented after another minute of fruitlessly studying him, turning and helping Leakee up off the ground. “He can come too.” Seth muttered. “Both of you.”

 

Leakee looked momentarily surprised before he nodded slowly. “I’d like to, if that’s okay.” Seth made a dismissive noise which Jon took as an ‘ _of course!_ ’, and after a brief game of rock paper scissors Mox took his place in the front seat while Leakee maneuvered into the back.

 

“I’m y’ GPS now, Rollins. Hope y’ don’t mind a little traffic.” Jon teased with a devilish grin.

 

“Seatbelts.” Seth said sharply instead of responding. “In my car, seatbelts stay on.”

 

It hadn’t really occurred to Jon that he wasn’t the only one in the class that might be affected adversely by an abandoned dog and adoption woes. Seth, in an uncharacteristic display of openness, filled the two men in with a brief overview of his tumultuous younger years. There had been a lot of moving around, a lot of times where he either _felt_ like he was left behind or was _literally_ left behind. It made him jagged in a different way from Mox, made him spiky and sarcastic as a defense mechanism.

 

Where Mox had struggled and railed against unfairness in his life physically, it appeared that Rollins had gone to war with his brain instead.

 

“Thanks for trusting us with this, man.” Leakee said while there was a lull in the conversation. “It’s a lot of good to know information. Have you told Dream any of it?”

 

Seth’s jaw tightened. “The less people know, the better. I don’t want their fucking pity.”

 

The shelter had Moxie in the usual kennel setup while they continued to give him IV fluids. The puppy was still very lethargic according to the tech, he mostly just laid on his side and kept breathing. She looked hesitant when Jon asked if they could see him, but finally nodded and brought the trio out past the other enclosures into the kennel area.

 

Seth hadn’t taken off his sunglasses despite them being indoors, his back so ramrod straight it made Moxley’s own back ache with phantom pain. Actually, the pain might have been real, Bloom hadn’t gone easy on their drills today.

 

The mutt was, true to the nurse’s description, just lying there in his kennel. If not for the motion of his side while he breathed, Mox would have thought he was dead.

 

“Oh Moxie, oh boy.” Jon said helplessly, the pit of his stomach dropping out as he wound his fingers through the bars of the kennel. “Hey boy, it’s me again. Y’ ‘member Jon, right pup?” The dog started wagging his tail, making Jon’s throat close up. “I’m so sorry, mutt. I shouldn’t have even come here. Gettin’ y’ hopes up.” He weaseled his hand into the cage, barely managing to pet the puppy. “You behave for these people, take y’ medicine like a good pup, okay?” Mox leaned his forehead against the kennel. “Y’ gonna’ find a good home, boy. I-I promise.”

 

“Lemme’ see him.” Seth said, his voice rough. Mox obligingly moved to the side, permitting Seth to get closer to the kennel. “Oh, Jesus.” Rollins sounded thoroughly distressed, gripping the cage bars. “Hey there, Moxie. Hey boy.” He whispered, one finger stroking the puppy’s ear. Moxie stirred at the different voice, half-raising his head so he could look at the man currently petting him. He licked Seth’s hand, his breath whiffling loudly in the silent room.

 

“I’m _sure_ he’s a good boy. He ain’t bit me once, even when I had my hands in his mouth. He’s all fucked up and scared, but I mean _shit_ , I would be too.” Moxley once again found his words drawing parallels between himself and the battered dog. “I…I can’t take him. I can’t have dogs in my apartment. Neither can Leeloo.”

 

“Yeah.” Seth silently continued to pet the dog for a few minutes. Then, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and hammered away at the keypad. His phone chirped almost immediately. For the first time since they had spoken earlier, a smile brightened Seth’s face. “I gotta’ take this call, be back in a sec.” He said quickly.

 

Leakee moved up behind Jon once Rollins left the room, the larger man’s presence an immense comfort. “I feel like you may be projecting right now, Jon.” His tone was kind. “I know this is difficult for you.”

 

“It’s fuckin’ shit is what it is.” Mox replied shakily, tears scraping at his throat. Leakee’s arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him back against his body in an embrace.

 

“I’m sorry, Jon.”

 

“Y’ have no idea how many times it’s been me in the fuckin’ kennel.” Jon couldn’t seem to stop the words from pouring out, “It’s always been me. Kicked, fucked over, broken ‘til I can’t move. It wasn’t ever easy bein’ the one on the inside, but _shit_ Lea, I’d trade places with that puppy in a heartbeat. He hasn’t done fuck all to anyone, why’s _he_ in there all dehydrated and shit?” Mox shook his head. “I know it doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense, b-but…”

 

“You’d rather take on someone else’s pain because you know, or you _think_ you know, that you can handle it.” Leakee murmured. “Or maybe because you think that you deserve it.”

 

“I don’t know.” Jon stared down at the puppy. “Dunno’ anythin’.” He patted Leakee’s hand clumsily after a minute, trying to thank him. Jon wasn’t much for talking right now. He wished he could track down the owner of the station wagon, have a little _chat_ with them.

 

Seth returned, seeming a touch breathless. Moxley knew he should probably feel self-conscious about the way Leakee was still wrapped around him, but all he did was lean back into the other man even more. Leakee stiffened momentarily, then relaxed and rested his chin on Jon’s shoulder.

 

“He’s coming with me.” Rollins said firmly. “The dog.”

 

Mox squinted at Seth. “Th’ fuck did you just say?”

 

“The dog. My mom’s adopting him.” Seth nodded towards the kennel. “If he recovers, I’ll bring him with me back home to Iowa.”

 

“Y-You…” Jon trailed off, thoroughly stunned. Seth looked like the cat that ate the canary, obviously pleased with himself. “Why?” Jon finally croaked hoarsely.

 

Seth shrugged, looking away and wiping his nose. “I just…I figured…well, my mom’s been looking for a bigger dog. She’s tired of the little ones. Yorkies and shit.”

 

“Rollins, did you jus’ fuckin’ drag y’ mom into this shit because of me?” Oh he was going to _cry_ , what the hell!

 

“I didn’t do it for _you_.” Seth retorted. “I did it for me. She’s been pestering me for months.”

 

“You _did_ do it for me.”

 

“I did n-- _don’t_ try to hug me! I don’t know if all my vaccinations are up to date!”

 

…

 

“Let me see your hand.” Leakee’s voice was soft. Jon, already lax on the other man’s couch from another hair brushing session, lazily raised his arm until Leakee took his hand.

 

“S’okay. Doesn’t hurt.” Mox said reassuringly, ruining the legitimacy of his statement by grimacing in pain when Leakee unwrapped the gauze to get a better look. “Hey, c’mon Lea, I’m fine.” He protested.

 

“I’m sure you are. But I can’t be worried?”

 

“Whoa, nobody said you had to give a shit about me.” Moxley half-joked, startled when Leakee’s grip tightened.

 

“It’s painful being around you sometimes.” Leakee murmured after a second. “I…I wish you weren’t so closed up. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just want you to know that it’s okay to tell me that something is hurting you or something is wrong. It doesn’t make you _weak_ or whatever the hell I’m sure you’ve been told.” He seemed to be rushing the words out, refusing to make eye contact when Mox tilted his head back to look at him. “I know you respect me. Hell, you told my _dad_ you respect me. You can trust me with your safety outside the ring.”

 

Jon swallowed hard. There it was. That nasty word. _Trust_. He had trusted a lot of people. And here came one more, demanding something that he wasn’t sure he had. Trust bit stupid people like him in the ass. Trust was a _luxury_.

 

“It’s alright.” Leakee sounded defeated and Jon hated himself for it. “If you can’t, I’m not offended. It’s been a long road for you to get to me. Miracles aren’t my area of expertise.”

 

“M’ scared.” Jon caught Leakee’s hand, gripping it tightly with his injured one. “Scared, Lea.”

 

“Of me?”

 

“Nuh, uh, I mean--m’ scared of people like you. Nobody is selfless, man. Everyone wants _something_. This act, this…whatever you’re doing, it’s pissing me off. Because I wanna’ believe it. Wanna’ believe that you’re a good guy, an’ that y’ don’t want anythin’ from me. You don’t get how scary that shit is to me.” Mox muttered. “I’ve got nothin’ t’ offer at this point. Wrestling’s all I wanna’ do with my life. S’ all I’ve ever wanted to do. But people keep…keep takin’ little bits of me an’ soon, there’s gonna’ be no fight left in me.”

 

“You’re right to believe that I don’t want to take anything from you, Jon.” Leakee said thoughtfully.

 

Mox’s eyes slid shut. He wanted to deny the disappointment that flooded him, wasn’t Leakee being greedy the thing that he had feared above all else?

 

He should be relieved.

 

“I kind of want you to _give_ everything to me, if I’m going to be totally honest.”

 

Jon lunged to his feet, that warm calm vanishing as his fist cocked back. “You _son of a bitch-!_ ”

 

“Hey!” Leakee barked. “I’m serious! _Give_ it all to me, okay? I’m here! All your worries, all the crap that’s happened to you, even the bad things you don’t really remember--look, I want it all! I’m here for you, Jon, I want you to give it to me.” He hadn’t backed away when Jon got to his feet. He wasn’t scared. He didn't believe that Jon would hit him.

 

Moxley barely remembered being small and being very, _very_ afraid of getting hit. And here he was all these years later squaring up against someone who had done nothing to him except be _kind_. His heart sank, hand falling limp at his side. “Fuck, Lea, m’ sorry.”

 

“I could have phrased it better. Don’t worry about it. Can I...?” Leakee trailed off, opening his arms.

 

Jon would be eternally grateful when Leakee didn’t draw attention to the fact that the 'rough and tumble street dog' was _absolutely_ sobbing into his shoulder. And when Leakee kissed his forehead, touched his face, whispered reassurances, it was...

 

_Okay_.

 

 


End file.
